Chapter 202 202.Mate

Chapter 202 202.Mate
Lina

My mother smells like lavender and eucalyptus.
It’s the scent of my childhood—soft hands and sharpened claws.
I bury my face into her shoulder and breathe her in like I can memorize it, like I can carry it with me into whatever waits beyond our borders.
“I’ll be back soon,” I tell her.
My voice is steady. I don’t know how.
Her arms tighten around me, and for a second, I’m not a warrior, not a strategist, not the female people look to when things start falling apart.
I’m just her daughter.
“You’d better,” she murmurs into my hair. “Or I’ll come drag you home myself.”
My lycan hums softly at the contact, pressing close to the surface.
She is afraid.
So am I, I admit.
She pulls back and cups my face, searching my eyes like she’s trying to read the future in them. I give her a small smile.
Elliot steps in next, wrapping me in a crushing embrace.
“I’ll watch the family,” he says quietly against my ear. “And Rhys.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Behind me, I hear Rhys huff.
Not amused.
Not convinced.
“Clara wanted to be here, but she got called in for a birth,” he says.
“That's alright. I'll be back soon anyway,” I say, hoping to keep the spirits high.
“Good, because you owe us sitter days,” Elliot says.
I laugh softly and pull away from Elliot, turning toward the male who has been staring at me like I might vanish if he blinks.
Rhys.
He stands rigid, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides.
The boys are at the schoolhouse, and in a way, I think it's better this way, so they won't go through those feelings of loss.
I take a step toward Rhys.
He doesn’t hesitate this time. He closes the distance and pulls me into his chest, enveloping me in his massive form.
His heart is beating too fast.
“I don’t like this,” he mutters.
“I know.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck, thumb brushing just beneath my ear. My lycan leans into the touch instinctively.
Mate.
I swallow.
“I wish I could go with you,” he says. “I should be going with you.”
His voice is low, controlled—but I hear the strain beneath it.
“We both know you’re needed here,” I reply gently. “Besides, Riven will be with me.”
He doesn’t look reassured.
His eyes flick over my shoulder toward the small group gathering at the tree line. Warriors. Strategists. Fighters.
Not enough, my lycan whispers.
But we don’t have a choice.
Those children are out there.
And Elira—
My claws itch at the thought of her.
I will not let children suffer at her hands.
The certainty settles deep in my bones.
A sudden burst of courage fills my chest. Not just for the mission.
For myself.
For something I’ve been too careful to take.
“Rhys…” I say softly.
His full attention snaps to me.
It always is.
I can’t remember a time he looked at me, and it wasn’t like this—like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
Suddenly, I’m tired of caution, tired of slowness when everything in me is sure of the certainty of us. Of the ordination of our union on a cellular level, even if my conscience is taking a while to catch up.
“Kiss me.”
It takes him a moment to register my words.
Then his grey eyes fill with certainty.
It's the kind the tide must give the moon as her gravitational pull calls him home.
The kind that tells me he doesn't just want what I can give, he wants all of me.
He moves.
No rush.
No desperation.
Every motion is deliberate.
His hand slides from my neck to my jaw, thumb tracing my cheek like he’s memorizing the shape of it.
My knees weaken before his mouth ever touches mine.
When it does—
Everything inside me shifts.
Not my bones.
Not my skin.
Something deeper.
Something that clicks into place, twists, and unlocks a connection I've only heard about.
Pain and pleasure intertwine as the mind stretches, reaches out until it crashes into a solid force and melds.
My lycan surges forward, pressing against him, wrapping around his wolf in silent recognition.
Mine.
His breath catches, and the kiss deepens—not wild, not frantic.
Longing.
So much longing it almost hurts.
It echoes inside me.
He echoes inside me.
Oh.
It's the bond. Our mate bond.
I thread my fingers into his shirt, anchoring myself to him. His chest rumbles into mine.
Pulling away feels wrong.
Like stepping away from warmth into winter.
But I force myself to break the kiss.
He rests his forehead against mine.
“I’ll be right here when you get back,” he says.
Not a request.
A promise he needs me to make.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Keep an eye on the boys for me.”
“I will.”
There are no guarantees in war.
But I will fight like hell to keep that one.
I step away before I lose my nerve.
If I look at him again, I might stay.
And I can’t.
I join the small group waiting near the forest’s edge.
Riven stands among them—tall, steady, blades strapped across his back. His presence alone is grounding.
On the outskirts of the group stands Tirianna.
Even from a distance, I can see something is off.
She’s too still.
Too tight.
I move toward her.
“Tirianna.”
She looks at me like she’s been pulled from somewhere far away.
Without a word, she reaches into the sheath at her side and pulls out a blade.
It’s shorter than a longsword. Sleek. Balanced.
She holds it out to me hilt-first.
“It’s been blessed,” she says quietly. “It should help you, if you need it.”
I blink.
“That was thoughtful.”
Her lips twitch, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“If you’re covering the children,” she says, voice low, “you won’t be able to shift without exposing them.”
She’s right.
If I shift into my lycan form, I lose clothing.
Armor.
Anything strapped to me.
If I’m shielding children—
I can’t risk that vulnerability.
I take the blade and test its weight.
It feels right in my hand.
Good steel, my lycan approves.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely.
As I slide it into place at my hip, I follow her gaze.
She’s looking past me.
At Riven.
He’s pretending not to look at her.
He’s failing.
There’s something there.
Unspoken.
Heavy.
“I don’t want to overstep,” I say carefully, lowering my voice. “But whatever is going on between you and Riven—you should talk to him.”
She stiffens.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
I arch a brow.
She exhales sharply.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admits finally. “My head…its too much to wrap my thoughts around.”
Her vulnerability surprises me.
Tirianna is rarely unsure.
“Maybe that doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “As long as you show you want to.”
Her fingers tighten around the strap of her sword.
She glances over her shoulder at Riven again.
He looks massive from here.
Solid.
Unmovable.
“I don’t want to distract him,” she says quietly.
I study her.
“I think it’s more of a distraction to leave with things plaguing your mind.”
She hesitates.
Wrestling with herself.
Then she nods once.
Small.
But decisive.
We part ways.
I can only hope my words push her toward courage instead of away from it.
As I step back into formation, I notice from the corner of my eye that Riven is already moving toward her.
Good.
Some things are worth fighting for.
I force my focus forward.
Jace stands near the center of the group, maps spread across a makeshift surface of flat stone. His expression is hard, calculating.
When he sees me approach, he nods.
“You’ll take point once we cross the second ridge,” he says without preamble. “If Elira has guards posted, they’ll be positioned high.”
“I’ll draw them out,” I reply.
He shakes his head. “No unnecessary risks.”
“We don’t have the luxury of caution,” I counter.
His gaze sharpens.
“We don’t have the luxury of losing you either. You’re the only one who can effectively hide them if they give chase.”
My lycan bristles.
We are not fragile.
I pull aside my pride. He is right.
He studies me for a moment, then nods once.
“The priority is the children. Extraction over engagement. If Elira is there—”
“She won’t touch them,” I cut in.
The certainty in my voice surprises even me.
Jace’s eyes soften briefly.
“That’s the spirit.”
I look around at the small group assembled.
Not an army.
Not overwhelming.
But capable.
Riven rejoins us, expression neutral—but Tirianna’s shoulders are less tense now.
That’s something.
The forest ahead feels darker than usual.
Like it knows what waits inside.
My lycan presses forward again.
We protect the young.
“Yes,” I murmur.
No matter what.
We are not coming home without those kids.
I glance back once.
Rhys stands at the edge of the clearing, watching.
Even from here, I can feel him.
Steady.
Waiting.
I press a hand briefly to my chest where his heartbeat still seems to echo.
Then I turn toward the forest.
And step into whatever waits for us there.